


Need a man who likes it rough

by SpaceCadetGlow



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bossy Submissive, Brutality, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Consensual Violence, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Reluctant Sadist, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCadetGlow/pseuds/SpaceCadetGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Rolf likes to get rough.  Nelly *really* likes to get rough... Like, bad. As in, hey baby, lets break something inside of my body oh yeah like that now let's get to the hospital because I'm bleeding into various body cavities. And Rolf just isn't quite into that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need a man who likes it rough

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Watchmen kinkmeme, which exists in its current iteration here: http://watchmen-km.dreamwidth.org/287.html. If you enjoy this fic, please leave a comment; feedback makes my day!

The slaps to his face do nothing but make him impatient. His cheeks begin to sting with the repeated impact, but it's not enough. He never gets quite enough.

When Rolf finally curls his fingers into a massive fist, he bites his lip in excitement, and tastes blood as the knuckles connect with his cheekbone. It doesn't shatter, though Rolf is certainly capable of it. He might never think twice about beating in the face of a criminal, but he always pulls his punches in the bedroom. Sometimes Nelson gets jealous.

He clutches at the handle of the bedroom door, against which Rolf had shoved him the second they got inside. He doesn't want to embrace the other man, doesn't want to do anything to distract him from this. With an appreciative moan, he begs Rolf to hit him again, anywhere, everywhere, please. The next punch catches him in the gut. Suddenly, he can't breathe, and in that time he is especially aware of the searing hardness between his legs. If he is lucky, Rolf might abuse him there too.

After a few all-too-brief seconds, air rushes back into his lungs. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please, Rolf, again.” There is a pause, though so quick that Nelson may have imagined it; then Rolf pulls back his fist and slams it into his ribs – once, twice, and he hears a dull crack. He lets out a long, shuddering sigh. Throbbing heat, everywhere from his skull to his groin, and still he needs more.

“Let's move,” Rolf says, gesturing to the bed. It's freshly made, with soft pillows and cool cotton sheets. It's not right at all.

Nelson shakes his head. “No. I want you here. I know you like this,” he says, looking down to where Rolf's erection strains against the fabric of his pants. His voice falls to a needy hush. “Please don't stop.” Rolf grabs him by the chin with one large hand, and turns his face to inspect the damage. “Do I look good to you, darling? You look good to me,” he purrs, finally reaching down to touch the larger man.

Rolf hits him with an open hand; his constant desire to be in control is all too easy to manipulate. “Did I say you could touch me?” Nelson smiles, and when Rolf raises his fist again, he turns his face into the blow. His nose breaks as easily as plaster; he tilts his head back against the door and closes his eyes in rapture while the blood starts to flow. 

“Nelson! Why the fuck would you do that?” The shout rings throughout the room, then Rolf grumbles, “I'll get something to clean you up, you goddamned idiot.” He tries to steer Nelson away from the door so he can get out, but Nelson pushes back.

“You can't go anywhere. You can't leave me like this,” he whispers, and rubs up needfully against Rolf's thigh while the coppery taste of his own blood dribbles into his mouth. “Can't you see what you do to me?” His cock grinds against the jutting bone at Rolf's hip with as much pressure as he can exert. 

Rolf seizes Nelson by the shoulders and forces him back a step. “We need to stop the bleeding—”

He is cut short when Nelson spits at him, a careless bloody spray suddenly spattering his face with red. “Stop being such a coward, and just admit you want to fuck me like this,” Nelson laughs, the adrenaline making him giddy. He knows Rolf too well, and Rolf has never been the master of his own temper. He is hurled to the floor in an instant. A moment later, Rolf is atop him, one knee firmly planted on his rigid cock, Nelson's pants pulled down just enough to leave it exposed. He whines gratefully at the intense and rare pain Rolf is giving him.

The edges of his vision are starting to go fuzzy, and thank God that Rolf isn't letting up. “This is what you want?” he snarls, landing punch after punch. The pain explodes in Nelson's chest, his stomach, his face; his heart pounds relentlessly, and he babbles in an endless stream of Oh God, yes, please, more. He is only dimly aware that he is crying.

Rolf leans forward, his knee digging harder into Nelson's length, weight shifting – and there is a low popping sound, and it hurts worse than anything he's ever experienced. Nelson screams, and comes with a shudder. As he comes down, gasping, from his climax, he gazes up at the man who gave him this and murmurs, “Love you, Rolf.”

The other man quietly gets up and leaves the room. First, there is the sound of the bathroom sink running and then his low, urgent voice drifts down the hall. Through his euphoric haze, Nelson wishes he would come back.

He does. “I've called an ambulance for you. I don't intend to be here when it arrives.”

Nelson lifts his head, and only now does he notice that Rolf looks profoundly disturbed. There is no longer any blood on his face. “Rolf...”

“I'll tell the others you were bested on the job,” he continues. “And that's what you'll tell them, too. You'll have plenty of time to think of a good story. Don't even try to explain it to the doctors.” He sighs and crosses his arms wearily. “This will not happen again.”

He leaves. 

The young men in the ambulance are horrified at his condition. The doctors tell him he has two cracked ribs and one broken one, that his nose isn't likely to look the same after it heals, and that he needs surgery to mend the tearing in his penis. They tell him he's lucky there wasn't more internal bleeding. Rolf visits him in the hospital just once, and seems relieved that all the damage is reparable. 

It does not happen again. He never gets quite enough.


End file.
